


like we did before

by regrettably



Category: Super Junior, Super Junior-M
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, actually there's a jjcc ref tho lmao oops, not jjcc sorry, oh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 20:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regrettably/pseuds/regrettably
Summary: When it comes to Henry, Zhou Mi will always say too much and too little at the same time.





	like we did before

**Author's Note:**

> who am I and what year is it

 

“So, uh, Henli… do you want to… uh…”

 

Here he goes.  On the ever-growing list of bad decisions he’s made today, this one’s by far the worst.  

 

Sure, getting out of bed was bad.  

 

Getting on a plane bound for Gimpo, bad too.  

 

The taxi driver, at the airport?  He could’ve said to take him anywhere: his old favourite cafe, the barbeque place where he got so drunk once that he threw up on Heechul in the bathroom, even Dongdaemun so he can buy clothes he doesn’t need with money he doesn’t really have.  Anywhere but the SM building.  Anywhere but to a place full of people he doesn’t want to see anymore for talks about his future and his contract and what a “difficult position” he’s in.

 

But bumping into who other than Henry Lau, in the hallway directly after yet another meeting where nothing was resolved and the general impression that he got was that his company seems determined to let his name fade into obscurity, and not pulling a quick 180 and booking it for the nearest exit, be it door or window?  

 

Worse than all the other decisions made today combined.

 

“Do I want to…?”  Henry prompts, a short laugh, eyes all bright and twinkly, looking for all the world like he’s _amused_ at how awkward this is.

 

Zhou Mi regrets being a polite person.

 

If he wasn’t, he could just say something along the lines of “It was great seeing you and all but I’ve got to leave right this second before you can say another word to me, I’m sure I’ll see you again in a year or whatever but if I don’t that’s fine too,” but unfortunately that just isn’t who he is.

 

Instead he does the right thing, the polite thing.  Because really, it has been at least a year since they last saw each other.

 

“Do you want to…” Zhou Mi pauses, gnaws on his lower lip, _come on come on tell him you have plans tell him you have somewhere else to go tell him anything just don’t_ \- “...I don’t know, grab some food together... or something?”

 

“Grab some food together… or something?”  The pitch of Henry’s voice shoots up, his eyebrows shoot up, Zhou Mi feels like he shrinks about ten inches, “...or…”

 

_Or you could go, you could tell me you’ve got stuff to do, you could tell me that you never want to see me again and I don’t belong here and I don’t belong in Korea and I never did and-_

 

“...or…” Henry offers, grinning, why is this so funny to him, “...or you could come back with me to my place?”

 

“To… your place…?”  God, even the way they talk is awkward.  Henry’s Chinese is rusty, Zhou Mi’s Korean rarely used anymore.  They have to switch back and forth, jump between languages every couple of words.  It hurts Zhou Mi’s head.  It hurts his heart.

 

“Yeah!  I can, y’know, cook for you?  I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it…”  His voice is all casual and carefree and so typical Henry, but the look he gives Zhou Mi is absolutely knowing and Zhou Mi swears he can feel the tips of his ears turning red.

 

“...uh… well… I…”  Zhou Mi fumbles, words get stuck on his tongue.

 

This is it.  This is the defining moment.  One of the few chances he gets to make a decision, to have control over something in his life.

 

No.  He should say no.

 

But he waffles, runs hands through his hair, twists the bands of his horrendously expensive rings around his bony fingers, looks into Henry’s eyes, sees the way he’s staring at him.  Eyes that look right through him.  Henry knows what he’s going to do.  Did right from the start.  

 

Zhou Mi sighs.  “...yeah, sure.  I guess...”

 

“Awesome!”  Henry claps his hands, lays a much too friendly palm on the leather so soft that it can only cost about a month’s worth of B-list idol pay of Zhou Mi’s jacket, “You wanna go, like, now then?  You just got here today, right?  Have you eaten?  You must be hungry…”

 

Henry’s pushing him, guiding him out of there, and his voice drops and drops and drops until it’s low and somewhere between suggestive and insinuating on that last word.  Zhou Mi loves it and hates it.  Henry’s hand is warm, even through all the layers of overpriced fabric.  It makes Zhou Mi’s face warm and his neck warm and his hands warm and his head warm even though his stomach churns and his heart feels like ice.

 

People don’t even really stop them in the halls.  Maybe a few quick bows and smiles from and to Henry, but that’s it.  It’s still technically his own workplace, but nobody recognizes him anymore.  

 

Zhou Mi doesn’t even really know how they get to Henry’s apartment.  

 

He knows, he truly does, that he needs to be careful about things like that.  So goddamn careful.

 

But it’s all a blur, someone’s car, a taxi maybe, bright lights and old smells and words that are foreign and familiar all at once.  That’s how being next to Henry feels.  Like the world is all fuzzy and unimportant next to someone with that nose that scrunches up whenever Zhou Mi says anything stupid and those eyes that crinkle when he laughs and that voice that makes him forget what year, what decade it even is.  

 

A bad sign.  Henry Lau is not the long-haired violin-wielding teenager from before, and Zhou Mi knows it deep down.  Just like he knows that on the outside he himself isn’t that same snivelling foreigner, using his big sunshiney smile to beg people to just give him a chance, please, just like him, please-

 

And he’s reminded rudely of these changes the second he’s ushered through Henry’s front door.

 

It’s so huge, it makes Zhou Mi feel small.  

 

If he’s being honest with himself, it always made him feel like this.  He doesn’t know why, his shoes alone are probably worth a month’s rent here, but really.  Henry’s place has a recording studio in it.  Zhou Mi barely has his own kitchen.

 

He wavers again, gingerly kicks his shoes off, _hold your head up high idiot, you’re the older one here, at least try to act like it_ -

 

“So…” Henry interrupts his internal chastisement, gives him this stare, probably wondering why he’s just standing there instead of, well…

 

“...uh…” He’s stuck again, he can’t really read the look Henry’s giving him.  It’s strange enough that he’s left thinking that maybe Henry really did just invite him over for dinner, and oh, how laughable that would be, how fucking awkward, how-

 

And then Henry grabs his wrist, yanks hard so Zhou Mi’s forced to look down to Henry’s level.  They’re standing face to face now, noses almost close enough to touch.  Henry’s breath ghosts all warm across Zhou Mi’s lips and they’re staring into each other’s eyes, and Zhou Mi knows that Henry, the little shit, is testing him, giving him one last chance to back out.

 

He should.

 

He won’t.

 

To his personal credit, Henry closes the gap between them first.  Henry kisses him, not the other way around.

 

But of course Zhou Mi kisses back.  Too late now.

 

Henry kisses like he always does: too rough, too eager, like he’s just trying to antagonize Zhou Mi into giving more.  He cups Zhou Mi’s face tight between his calloused hands and forces Zhou Mi’s lips open; pushes him back into the door.

 

Zhou Mi’s knees buckle and he whimpers, threads fingers through Henry’s hair.  Pulls him closer even though he can’t breathe.  

 

Just when Zhou Mi thinks he’ll drown, Henry pulls back.  Parts those spit-slick lips and grins.  All confident, self-assured.  Impudent child.

 

“Bedroom?”  He asks, pulling on Zhou Mi’s lower lip with his teeth.  Zhou Mi moans.

 

“Please.”  There’s a pause.  A bad one.  Zhou Mi realizes Henry expects him to lead the way.  He can’t, doesn’t remember where it is.  “...but… I…”

 

“Oh.”  Henry’s smile wavers for a second, but then he’s got Zhou Mi again, dragging him by tailored cuffs past rooms Zhou Mi doesn’t recognize now.  

 

It’s fine.  The time it takes them to get to the bedroom gives Zhou Mi a chance to recollect himself, remember what he’s good at when he’s with someone.

 

He wants to show Henry too, remind him.  So he gets the upper hand this time, if only for a moment.

 

He sinks to the ground, pulls down Henry’s pants with him.  Stays there until his knees bruise, his lips swell, his throat is sore and raw.

 

Henry has enough of him like that, drags him up onto the bed.  Peels away Zhou Mi’s layers of designer fabric as if he’s peeling the lid off convenience store ramen.  

 

Zhou Mi’s relieved they didn’t bother with the lights.  Henry doesn’t need to know him in his thirties in fluorescent detail.  He’s no longer a fragile bag of bones, frail and desperate under red bangs and too much eyeliner.  Weird that he feels just about as nervous as he did back then.  Maybe because Henry’s the same as he was; touching him everywhere, kissing him everywhere, grinning whenever he gets Zhou Mi to make a pretty noise.  Wanting everything and not ashamed about it.

 

Zhou Mi, disappointing himself, is only too happy to let him have it.  Normally he’d do more, at least offer more, but Henry’s always liked doing things himself and Zhou Mi’s sadly always liked that.  

 

He lets Henry devour him.  Ruin his mouth, his puffy lips, suck on his neck and steal his voice.  He’s worked open, pushed apart, gangly legs spread, knees up.  All he does is scrabble his nails into Henry’s strong shoulders and take it, only once mumbles a request for condoms and lube.  Not surprised when Henry has plenty of both.

 

Then Henry’s rolling him, on his knees, face pressed into the covers.  Tough arms around his waist, sweaty chest pressed into his back.  Split open with nothing to do but tear at the blankets with his hands, hope futilely that the sheets aren’t as expensive as they feel.  

 

Every time Henry rocks into him Zhou Mi swears he’ll break in two.  Or maybe four.  His heart and his body at the same time.  Or better yet, hundreds of pieces, shatter like those bowls he threw at Yiru-ge when he told him that he was leaving for good this time or that copy of Henry’s first album he broke in a fit of hysteria years ago.  

 

His eyes well up, sweat drips from his hairline onto Henry’s bedding.  Henry’s too good.  Too much.

 

Zhou Mi thinks it’s only Henry’s arms holding him in place that keep him together.  Henry clutches even harder at Zhou Mi’s hips, leans in and bends Zhou Mi so he can kiss along his throat.  Zhou Mi squirms and squeezes his eyes shut, clamps his lips together to keep from pleading.  Reminds him of being young in a hotel in Taiwan, biting at pillows to not give them away.  

 

Unwelcome memories, too hot, not enough air.  He’s about to lose it, splinter apart in every way he can when Henry gets them both there.

 

It isn’t pretty.  It’s gross and wet and slimy and messy but Henry holds him through it and after.  Pulls Zhou Mi close to him, cradles his head against his chest, smiles as he basks in endorphins and body heat and relief.

 

Stupid Henry.  You’re not supposed to be this close if it’s only one night.  Zhou Mi would protest but he’s too drained, went through too much to argue, simultaneously wants to pull away and never go anywhere else.

 

“Mimi…” Henry murmurs, rubbing sweaty circles with his thumb over the tattoo on Zhou Mi’s shoulder while Zhou Mi struggles to breathe, to control himself.

 

He loves being Mimi again.

 

“Mimi…” Henry repeats, and Zhou Mi smiles in spite of himself, rubs his nose against Henry’s chest.  He smells the same as he always does, always did, how can that even be- “Mimi-g--”

 

Oh no.  Zhou Mi cuts him off before he can say it.  If Henry says it, he’ll never be able to convince his dumb heart to leave.  

 

“-didn’t you promise me food?” Zhou Mi groans, peels his face off Henry’s chest.  Everything aches.  His head, his back, his chest, everything feels worn out, used up.  

 

“That’s right, I did…” Henry sits up, muscles flexing, pushes all his sweaty hair off his face in one damningly sexual move.  He’s the hottest thing Zhou Mi’s ever seen.  “...what do you want?  Stir-fry?  Ramen?  ...the Henry Lau special?”

 

Zhou Mi rolls his eyes, rubs at his aching back.  “I think the Henry Lau special broke my spine.”

 

Henry laughs, smiling all sly as he rolls off the bed, checks himself out in a mirror, messes with his hair in all his naked glory.  Smug bastard.

 

Zhou Mi’s staring, eyes adjusted enough to the dark to see all the contours of Henry’s body.  Not an ounce of fat.  He’s jealous.  “...but seriously, I don’t care.  Anything’s fine.”

 

Henry nods, molds his hair into some sort of sexy, sweaty coif, turns to leave.

 

“Wait, aren’t you going to get dressed?” Zhou Mi asks from the bed, already tugging bedding around his waist, some weird feeling that he needs to be seen less.

 

“In my own house?”  Henry laughs, leans nonchalant in the doorway, shows Zhou Mi _everything_.  “Nah.”

 

“Weirdo.  Don’t complain to me if you burn yourself someplace awkward.” Zhou Mi pulls a face, Henry just laughs harder.  “...can you at least lend me some clothes?”

 

Henry folds his arms, takes an agonizingly long time to think about it.  Zhou Mi knows he’s just doing it because he likes making him blush.  

 

“Okay, fine.”  He digs around in a drawer, tosses some stuff in Zhou Mi’s direction, leaves before he can hear Zhou Mi complain.

 

Henry’s given him boxers (super tight) and one of those stupid really long oversized shirts that he wears.  It feels weird.  Feels too comfortable, smells too much like Henry.

 

He gives himself a once-over in the mirror, sighs.  With his messy hair and Henry’s huge shirt, he looks more like a debauched teenager than a thirty-one year old man.  He can’t decide if he likes how it looks or if it makes him sick.

 

When he pads out to the kitchen (huge, shiny, new), Henry’s already cooking.  He offers to help, but Henry shoos him away, leaves Zhou Mi to stand there and awkwardly look through fragments of his personal life.

 

Henry always was a slob.  There’s shit everywhere: clothing blanketing all the furniture, books and papers scattered across the floor, half-written sheets of music and demos piled haphazardly on every surface.  Zhou Mi carefully plucks a poorly labelled CD from a stack treacherously heaped on the kitchen counter.

 

“...I, uh, I heard your new songs…” He ventures, timid, turning the jewel case in his hands.

 

Henry shoots him a surprised grin over his shoulder.  “Really?  What’d you think?”  
  


“I like them.”  Zhou Mi’s earnest.  “I’m… I’m glad you get to do music again.”

 

“Me too.” Henry laughs, but it sounds weird.  Probably too much pain there.  Zhou Mi knows.  “...what about you?  What’ve you been up to lately?”

 

Zhou Mi grips the plastic a bit too hard, is afraid it might crack, returns it to its pile.  “Oh, well… some modelling… some acting… you know how it is…”

 

Henry nods, focus on the cooktop and whatever it is he’s chopping directly into a frying pan.  “Sure… but no music?”

 

“Um… I’m, uh… working on some… personal stuff…” _Wow, convincing lie, you big idiot.  As if he doesn’t know what that means-_

 

“Huh.  Good to hear.”  Henry nods again, but they both know.  Thankfully, they’re spared from having the rest of that embarrassing conversation.  “Uh, food’s done!  Come on, come sit!”

 

Henry gestures to a table, puts down a big bowl of something that smells fantastic in the middle for them to share.  He shoves chopsticks in Zhou Mi’s hands, leans his elbows on the table, stares at him with an expectant, childish smile.  If Henry wasn’t naked and Zhou Mi wasn’t recently fucked, they could be barely adults again.  Two foreigners with nobody else to go to.  Midnight after practice, Henry wanting Zhou Mi to taste his “special ramen” (everything in the dorm fridge thrown into one pot).

 

“So… it’s good, right?”  Henry grins, watching Zhou Mi take the first bite.

 

It is.  So good.  It still looks like it’s a combination of everything in the fridge, but it’s good this time.  “Yeah!  Henli, it’s great!”

 

“How great?”

 

Zhou Mi rolls his eyes, smiles.  “So great.”

 

“Best you ever had?”

 

_Of course you are._

 

“Don’t push it, brat.”  Zhou Mi laughs, just like he used to.  Henry sticks out his tongue.  It’s like 2008 but with better food.

 

Or it would be if Henry wasn’t annoying and chatty and Zhou Mi did well with silence.  Because they can’t talk all night the way they used to now.  Idle words about hopes and dreams and music aren’t good enough anymore.

 

Henry ruins it first.  

 

He asks it right when Zhou Mi has a mouthful of food.  Zhou Mi wonders if he does it just to make him choke.  “So, uh… you seeing anybody right now?”

 

Zhou Mi’s first urge is to spit it all out, but he forces himself to swallow.  He feels sick for real this time.  “Uh… no…?”

 

He tries to play it cool, not let Henry know how upset he is.  He’s not sure what hurts him more, the fact that Henry thinks he’s the kind of person that would be here when he’s already committed to someone else, or the fact that he himself knows that even if he did have someone he would probably still be here too.  

 

“Really?  Nobody?”  Henry frowns, it looks strange.  “Not even Kyuhyun?”

 

Zhou Mi reaches across the table, gives Henry a light smack to the forehead when all he really wants to do is cry.  “Please, we both know that was never a thing.”

 

Henry pouts, rubs at his head.  “Okay then, what about that other guy… the one with my name?  Prince Henry, uh, something…?”

 

Zhou Mi snorts.  “Oh ew, no.  I’ve got better taste than that...”

 

Henry laughs too, scratches at his chin.  “Wait… how about that director guy?  From that drama you were in a while back…?”

 

Zhou Mi freezes.  He has no idea how Henry knows about that.  It’s disgusting that he does know.  “I… I… it’s… it’s over, okay?  It wasn’t anything serious.”

 

“Really?”  Henry looks surprised, confused.  “I heard that he really, like, y’know… _loved_ you…”

 

“He was sixty…” Zhou Mi murmurs, it comes out dark and kind of scary and Henry looks up from his food.  “...it’s… it was… it’s just… it’s done, alright?”

 

His voice is sharp and his stomach is flipping and he doesn’t know how they got here.  He doesn’t want to sit here, in Henry’s clothes, in his kitchen in the middle of the night after they slept together and have Henry question him about all his bad choices and all the guys twice his age he’s been with and all the gross awful things that he’s done and-

 

“-or what about that stylist guy from-”

 

Zhou Mi’s had enough.  This game can go both ways.  “-what about you?  Anybody in your life?”

 

Henry’s unruffled.  He shrugs.  “Nope.”

 

“Seriously?  Nobody at all?”

 

“Nuh-uh.  Nobody at all.”  Henry’s casual, still shovelling food into his mouth.  Zhou Mi’s angry that he manages to look hot even when he’s eating.

 

“So, you never told Amber then?”

 

Even that doesn’t get Henry.  “Nah.  I thought about it but… the longer I waited, the more I realized that she’s not, uh, _the one_ …”

 

The irony isn’t lost on Zhou Mi.  But he can’t win here, not even sure why he has to.  He guesses he’s a child too, just doesn’t want to lose to Henry.  He’s got nothing snide to add to that though.  Being mean was never his strong suit.  Being hurt and taken advantage of, that’s where he really shines.

 

So he’s resigned to just sitting there and feeling awful and trying to stifle the queasy feeling in his belly when Henry speaks up again.

 

It’s weird.  He sounds normal, but his eyes are focused on the bowl, resolute, as if he literally cannot look anywhere else.

 

“I guess…”  Henry starts, casual, contemplative, “...I guess people like us are just meant to be alone…”

 

There’s just something in the way he says it.  Or maybe it’s something in the way he doesn’t look at Zhou Mi when he says it.  Whatever it is, it stirs up something long dead in Zhou Mi’s heart.

 

Which is pounding.  Racing in his chest.  Going so fast he’s sure Henry can see it thumping up against his ribcage.

 

Does he… does he want Zhou Mi to…?  
  


“Henli…” He tries.  He really does.  

 

_What are you doing?  Why are you waiting?  Why don’t you ask him?  Isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?  Isn’t that what you’ve been killing yourself with for years? Haven’t you suffered long enough?_

 

But…

 

_Come on, come on, come on!  When will you ever get another chance?  When will you stop being so stupid and just say it, just tell him, god why can’t you just-_

 

“Henli… I…”   _Say it say it say it ask him ask him ask him say it say it say it-_

 

Henry looks up at him.  Zhou Mi doesn’t know what his expression is.  

 

It’s blank.  

 

_Oh._

 

Zhou Mi can’t do it.  Like always.

 

“I… I guess you’re right.”  Zhou Mi sighs, his shoulders slump.  “I guess people like us are meant to be alone…”

 

Henry… well, Zhou Mi doesn’t know.  He’s quiet for a second, his eyes flicker.  But that’s it.  He doesn’t really look disappointed.  He doesn’t look like he was expecting anything from Zhou Mi.

 

And that might be the worst hurt of all.

 

Henry’s already back to scarfing down food, as if he doesn’t know that Zhou Mi’s heart has just shattered in his chest.  Maybe he does know and doesn’t care.  Maybe it’s been too long for him too.

 

“So, you’re going to stay the night, right?”  Henry asks through a mouthful of food, his usual cheeky smile tugging at his lips.

 

They both know the answer.  Of course Zhou Mi will.  What’s one more bad decision in a long day of bad decisions?  His weak idiotic crushed heart won’t let him pass up on waking up next to Henry, all stubbly and soft and sexy in the morning light.  Still clinging tight to him in his sleep like he did almost a decade ago.

 

Zhou Mi’s lower lip trembles, but he forces himself to smile back.  Smile like SM’s Zhou Mi does.

 

“Yeah, ‘course.”

 

“...and then what?”

 

“Then… I’m leaving for New York.  Then back to China for a while, and then… well… I guess we’ll see what happens…”

 

“Huh.”  Henry nods, satisfied.  “Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other within a year.”

 

“Yeah.”  Zhou Mi smiles while his heart crumples.  “I’m sure we will.”

 

And they probably will.

 

They’ll run into each other, Zhou Mi will agree to see Henry when he knows he shouldn’t.  He’ll make one bad decision after another.  They’ll repeat tonight again.  Zhou Mi will never let Henry know, will never ask him.  

 

He couldn’t do it almost ten years ago, he can’t do it now, he won’t be able to do it next year.  

 

But living like this is the only way he can be twenty-one years old and in love with Henry Lau again.  And right now, that’s all he’s got.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
